Wrong for Me

08|attention

DANTE MANCINI—JUNE

"WHAT DO YOU LIKE about yourself? Personality wise," Naomi spoke as she ate the few fries I had given her that came along with my burger.

"Is it conceited to say that I like everything?"

"No," she sang, giving me a small smile. "Because I feel the same way about myself but what's your favorite thing?"

"I guess my dedication. When I start something...no matter what it is...I like to see it through until the end...if it has to come to an end," I spoke, keeping my eyes locked with hers as she nodded in understanding. With the way her cheeks flushed, I knew she was catching my double entendre. "I don't give up easily."

"That's admirable. I like that I...I'm confident. I don't hold back on speaking my mind and I'm not afraid to get what I want," she replied seriously, giving me a look that showed me that she also was throwing out a double entendre. This girl was something else.

She asked me a few other questions that weren't too hard hitting and that I could answer quite easily. But that doesn't mean I necessarily liked answering them. I wasn't usually the type of person to reveal myself so easily and many of the women I chose to date didn't pry. We kept our relationships surface level, but I figured it would be a turn off for Naomi if I didn't at least answer them—I was humoring her in some sense.

"Last question," she spoke, leaning across the table a little farther. I had to pry my eyes way from just how good her chest looked in her shirt as she continued talking. "What do you want your life to be like in five years."

Opening my mouth to respond, I quickly shut it as I realized that I had no clue. Just five years ago, I could have told her what I wanted by the time I was thirty-eight, but now that I had reached those goals I was quite content. My business was wildly successful, I had the home I wanted, my friends were great and my family and I had an okay relationship. What did I want?

Taking notice of the way I couldn't conjure up a response very quickly, she thankfully began to talk about what she wanted.

"I hope to still live in the city...I like it here a lot," she explained, turning to face some of the skyscrapers we could see in the distance. "I want to have a successful job by then doing something that I truly enjoy instead of just doing it to make money. I want to be living life without any worries...without any troubles."

"I like that," I replied, surprising myself with my own answer. I really did like that—she knew what she wanted in life and didn't seem fearful at all. She reminded me of myself. "I'll have to get back to you on mine, you okay with that?" I sent her a wink and she nodded at my words, a bright smile on her face.

Having been together today for quite some time, I figured it was coming to an end soon. Which was precisely why we took our good old time walking back to our cars. Everything had been going so well.

"Are you allergic to anything?" She questioned suddenly as we walked up the street, making me furrow my eyebrows in confusion for a second. She seemed to always just say what was on her mind.

"I don't know yet. I guess I'll find out eventually," I told her, shrugging my shoulders. "Maybe one day I'll eat a...papaya and it will just completely take me out."

She laughed that beautiful laugh of hers, barely paying attention to the way she was about to run into the woman walking in the opposite direction of us. I swiftly grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to my side, realizing that this girl really had a short attention span.

I just hoped that didn't translate to her dating life. Because I definitely didn't want to dive into anything with her if she would only pay attention to me for a few months.

It was crazy to me how the worries that I evoked in so many women was coming back to bite me with Naomi.

***

IT HAD BEEN DAYS since Naomi and I last spoke—in person at least. Every now and then we texted, simply just joking with each other and getting to know one another more, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Now however, it was Thursday and Khalil and I were on edge as we waited for Mr. McNamara to show up. We had gone over our plans tediously to make sure we had everything correct—and we did—but that didn't cause any less stress it seemed.

"Good morning, Mr. Mancini and Mr. Davenport," he spoke in that booming voice of his as he walked into the room. We immediately stood to our feet and shook his hand, finally taking a seat after he had done so.

Right away we delved into detailing how well the business had been going and how well our revenue was doing. Honestly, Mr. McNamara seemed quite impressed with the quality work and ensured that he would continue to fund us. Hearing that was like the best breath of fresh air.

"One more thing before I go," he spoke, not seeming to pressed about whatever he had to say. "With the way this business is growing so swiftly, I think you two have too much on your plates. Writing your own notes, grants, and proposals isn't the best bet...you need someone to that for you under your guidance. I recommend getting assistants or interns and I don't want to see you two doing all the work the next time we meet."

With that, he stood from the table, shook our hands and walked out the door with his assistant trailing behind him.

"I never thought about getting interns," Khalil finally spoke up, tapping his pen on the edge of the desk. "But that could give people an opportunity and secure loyalty for the business farther down the line if they become employees."

I nodded along with him, already knowing that I would offer up a position to Naomi as soon as Khalil and I came up with the plan. Writing—as she claimed—is her passion and I don't doubt that she could do the job well—she was a hard worker from what I had seen at the restaurant.

"I already have someone in mind," I told Khalil once we agreed to actually go through with the plan of a paid internship.

"Don't tell me it's..."

"You already know the answer to that," I chuckled, as a grin grew on his face and he shook his head at me.

"Business and pleasure can get messy, man," he spoke finally, standing from the chair and patting my back before walking out of the room.

He was right. But I wouldn't let anything between us get messy.